


Ready or Not

by hesychasm (Jintian)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-09
Updated: 2001-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jintian/pseuds/hesychasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "Graduation Day 2." An extended version of Buffy in Faith's head (or Faith in Buffy's head, whichever).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready or Not

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Flywoman for a tight beta, and to sophiahelix for flips and flops and just about everything else under the sun.

  
Most people nowadays live forever. Not like the dark ages when everyone was demon meat. Now we've got doctors, medicine, Viagra. And there's a hidden army of people like Slayers out there, busting our asses to pick up the slack so everybody gets their three score and ten.

The difference with Faith and me, though, is that we'll be lucky to make it out of our teens. I think that's a pretty generous estimate, actually. We weren't built to see the other side of twenty.

I don't know who will go first. I know she thinks she's superhuman. She thinks she's forged out of iron or diamonds or something, and everyone else is glass, tissue, dirt. She's prowling around with fire in her hand and we're all made of paper.

She's a natural disaster in the making. My darker half. My darker three quarters really, if it's an honest day.

*

These are the things I remember.

The knife pushing into her, how her body resisted the movement but still it went so deep, cutting through skin and muscles and organs.

How she said, "You did it, B," like it was a test, like it was all her idea and she was the one giving me the score.

Angel's fear, and then the thirst, the hunger I could almost touch it was so thick between us.

The floor cold and hard against my back, and his cold hard body covering mine as all the light and heat in the room flowed into him.

*

This is where I am.

Nighttime. Running through the empty streets of Sunnydale. It all looks so familiar, the storefronts and sidewalks, the moon-made shadows I know so well I can tell it's midnight.

Except every time I turn a corner, the scene flickers. What replace the town are flashes of metal and glass, skyscrapers crowding over skinny, crooked streets. Sometimes there are demons and vampires, a glimpse of fangs or mottled skin that disappears just as quickly as I see it.

I'm running, and a cool breeze lifts the perspiration from my face and neck. I'm looking for her. There's an itch all over my skin. I know she's somewhere close.

Giles told me once there are certain dreams that affect even your waking body. If something happens to you in the dream, if someone cuts your arm or face, you'll wake up bleeding from the same places.

And he told me people who get killed in those kinds of dreams don't wake up at all.

*

She finds me in a cemetery, stepping out behind a tombstone that reads, "Sunnydale. R.I.P."

Her lips are dark and her smile is wide. "I was wondering when you'd drop in."

I don't answer. I toss my head so my hair flips out of my face, and move in fast.

I think the fight lasts about ten minutes, rambling all over the cemetery. We're evenly matched, no serious injuries on either side. We're sparring, not fighting. Part of me is distracted, watching the design on her shirt flicker in and out of existence, the grass under our feet going from long to cut and back again.

But another part of me wants to take it to the next level, to continue what I couldn't finish before. I'm afraid of what that would mean if I did, here in this place.

While I'm wavering, she throws a jab at me. I duck. The air from her fist whizzes over my head. I can feel that, like her arm is a solid thing that could hurt me.

There is so much about her that could hurt me.

"Stop doing that," she snaps. "This could've been over a long time ago."

"You have somewhere better to be?" I reel back and narrowly avoid a kick to my chest.

"I said stop it, B."

"What," I snort. "I'm supposed to just let you hit me in the face? Sorry, I've got a date later."

She smirks. "I think it'd take more than a black eye to put Long Tall and Moody off your tail."

Before she's finished talking I take a swing, the side of my wrist crashing into her forearm as she raises it with crushing speed. Hard muscle and bone colliding, that's real enough. I sense her knee driving up toward my stomach and I pivot outward, landing on my back and turning the momentum into a roll.

She darts while I'm still trying to gain my feet, diving low and swinging an arm across the backs of my legs. I fall back again and she moves like a viper, sitting astride my torso and pinning my arms to the sides with my knees.

Her fist reaches behind her shoulder and comes crashing back down toward my chest. A stake is in her hand, then is gone again with a blink. Her lips spread into another silky smile and her hair drips sweat onto my neck. "Tag."

"Ugh," I wheeze through a tight chest. "Didn't know being a bad guy meant putting on the pounds."

Her eyes darken and she rests her hands on her hips. "What'sa matter, B? Slowing down already?"

"Actually, I'm just getting warmed up," I grunt.

Again, she anticipates my move and throws herself to the side a split second before my kick can connect with the back of her head.

I launch and go after her with everything I've got -- combos of punches and kicks, pushing her to the limit. But still she manages to clip me on the chin, and when I swallow I taste blood.

I spit. "You are such a bitch! I'm bleeding!"

"I'm sure your vamp boy toy would love a little tonsil hockey right about now," she jabs.

The words draw me up fast, and I stand looking at her, a strange pounding in my chest.

"Looks like that was my cue to bounce." That smirk again, the one that looks like she's just read every last thought in my head. "Stop by the Bronze later if you feel like crashing a party." Then she takes off, leaving me still staring blankly.

*

What matters isn't who I love, or who I want, or who I hate. What matters is that everyone stays in this game for as long as possible, and that somebody somewhere decided I'd be the star quarterback. I don't have a choice about it. I learned that lesson already.

I don't know if Faith ever needed to be taught this. She loves the Slayer life. The things she wants and takes -- they're already given to her. Nothing is too impossible. I don't know if there's anything she even wants at all.

I lived her life for a while, until I realized we stank of death. I didn't need more of that.

I'm already surrounded by it, already dancing with it every night.

I thought I could help her. I've been to dark places, fought my way through regrets and inner demons and screamed at the world for being so cold and unfair. But there's something else in her. That last wild and raging one fourth that belongs only to Faith, that I can't ever get inside of.

*

The Bronze is empty but lit with colored lights, music blasting from the speakers. It thrums through my chest as I make my way past tables and chairs to the dance floor.

Faith is there, dancing on a platform with a ring of vamps leering hungrily up at her. My muscles tense, but they don't make any move to attack. They don't even look at me, they're so absorbed in Faith.

She's moving in time with the music, the leather of her pants clinging to her hips and ass with each controlled swing, her tank top pulled tight against her breasts. As I watch she raises her arms over her head, and the tinted light makes her skin glow like gold.

I walk closer, and she turns her head to look at me.

"Come on, B," she says, holding out a hand. "They want us."

In a flash I'm there, before I can even think to move. She's half a foot away from me now, her eyes deep and holding secrets. I swallow and hear my throat click.

I start dancing. I've danced with her before.

The vamps' eyes are on us like snakes', unblinking. They don't make any noise, but my heart is beating a machine gun rattle. I can feel their hunger in the air, thick and heavy, like Angel's. It's a trap all around us, with Faith and me in the middle.

She's running her hands over herself now, cupping her breasts, smoothing down over her hips and briefly between her legs. I watch. I can't help but watch.

She has that smile on her face, the one that says I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-anyone-but-me. But I look at her eyes, and they're full of shadows, and I wonder if maybe I was wrong about her not wanting anything.

"Let's give 'em a little peepshow, B."

She moves in closer. Her hand clasps the back of my neck, her legs go on either side of my thigh and her hips push against me. I can feel the heat boiling off of her.

Lightning storm. Natural disaster.

"Touch me," she whispers in my ear. "I'll touch you too. We'll show 'em what Slayers can do."

"I..." I say. "What are you..."

"Buffy." She says my name. She says it again. "Nobody can see you in here but me."

I feel my hands move without me, tracing the shape of her ass, running up the slope of her abdomen. Unbroken, no knife wound. I test each part I touch against my own body. The weight of her breasts compared to mine, the line of her collarbone, the muscles of her arms and shoulders. Smooth, smooth skin.

Her back is tense and sweaty as I pull her closer to me. Her hair tangles in my fingers as I draw her face toward mine.

We kiss.

I feel those full lips part, her tongue slips through and it tastes like red, black, like thunderclouds, like the killing blow of a long fight. I can smell her all over me, spicy and humid.

The vamps disappear, the Bronze disappears, the music and the lights and the platform we're dancing on. It's just Faith and me. It's just Faith.

*

There are things I want. There are so many things.

But it's game time now. I know it. We've reached the end of the night, the sun is up and everyone must go home.

Faith breaks the kiss first. Light hits her eyes and turns them into honey.

"Got some things to show you, B," she says, stepping back. I feel the cold of her absence and cross my arms. "Some things you need to know."

And we're standing in the doorway of her apartment. It's morning.

  



End file.
